Bulletproof Heart
by Volkihar
Summary: Agent Hollie Steel of SHIELD started life as a ruthless killer. Raised by an Italian Mafia boss, her sole purpose in existence was that of an expert assassin – until an agent sent to kill her made a different call, and a tragedy leads her to cross paths with a certain genius billionaire playboy philanthropist.
1. Sacrifice

**Disclaimer:** I do not own anything aside from a few OCs and am not making any money from writing this.

**Warnings:** Violence, premeditated murder, angst, swearing, heavily implied sexual content but no graphic descriptions.

**Notes: **A little AU, post Avengers, but before Iron Man 3. Trying very hard to keep this sue-free. :3

**Being Beta'd by:** lieselmax

* * *

Gravity  
Don't mean too much to me  
I'm who I've got to be  
These pigs are after me, after you  
Run away, like it was yesterday

I got a bulletproof heart  
You got a hollow-point smile  
Me and your runaway scars  
Got a photograph dream on the getaway mile

Let's blow a hole in this town  
And do our talking with a laser beam  
Gunning out of this place in a bullet's embrace  
Then we'll do it again

- From "Bulletproof Heart" by My Chemical Romance

* * *

**Chapter 1: **Sacrifice

* * *

Agent Hollie Steel tore through the busy streets of New York with a 360 semi-auto loaded and ready in her left hand. Snow fell lightly, blanketing the sidewalks beneath her feet, and adding a dusting of white to her skin-tight Kevlar bodysuit and tightly bound brunette hair. Beside her, the famous Macy's Christmas decorations in the enormous department store's windows barely caught her stormy grey eyes that were narrowed in concentration. All in all, it would have been a peaceful scene, the perfect depiction of a Christmas Eve afternoon in the city – _if_ the street wasn't filled with frenzied, screaming New Yorkers running like startled rabbits in every which direction.

There had just been a shooting in the Macy's building. But unbeknownst to the public, law enforcement and the now swarming news crews, there was also a bomb – a bomb capable of not only leveling the Macy's building, but at least four city blocks surrounding it. Hollie was one of three SHIELD agents sent in to disable it, or in the worst case scenario do her best to evacuate the civilians.

She was running out of time. The gunmen, members of an American extremist terrorist group attempting to incite a new revolution against the government, had already gunned down the other agents. Hollie slaughtered them all with a single shot each and without batting an eyelash. She was a killer, born and bread. Hollie felt no remorse at taking a life. To her, it was necessary, and in a twisted way she relished having the honor of being the herald of doom. After all, everything dies at some point.

Hollie burst through the doors leading into the building and made a beeline for where the main Christmas display was. She had to get to the bomb; there was no telling when back-up would arrive and she wouldn't be able to evacuate a radius of at least four blocks by herself, in less than a half an hour.

Luckily, the store was deserted – as far as she could tell.

She found the bomb easily, and immediately set to work. It was hidden beneath the platform where they took those obnoxious pictures of screaming children with some fat old man pretending to be Santa. Sometimes, Hollie was glad for her upbringing that spared her the existence of embarrassing childhood photos. But in a moment of utter horror, she realized that it was a modified Stark weapon. ...Modified in the sense that it was impossible to disable. With some tinkering, she would be able to contain the blast to the Macy's building, but there was no way to stop it entirely. _There's no one here, might as well go with that, _Hollie thought to herself and made short work of splicing one of the wires and tampering with an electrical relay switch. _The only thing to lose is a gaudy historic department store. _To Hollie, it was child's play – even if detonation was still imminent and would now occur in about seventy seconds instead of half an hour.

Back on her feet, Hollie vaulted down one of the old wooden escalators that had been shut down after the shooting. _Twenty seconds, _she told herself as she the main doors came into sight - as a well as a young woman trying to comfort a scared child in the lobby, barely visible in the dim emergency lighting. _Eight seconds, _she thought as she ran toward them.

"Get outside – the place is going to blow!" Hollie shouted, but made no hesitation in grabbing both the woman and child and hurling them bodily through the glass doors after shooting them to pieces with her handguns that could easily penetrate bulletproof glass. Their interruption, however, cost Hollie valuable time.

_Two seconds..._

In sheer instinct, she threw her arms up to protect her face as the ground shook and the sound of the explosion rocked the building off its foundation. As if in slow motion, Hollie was blown off her feet in a cloud of bomb-propelled debris that wasn't at all unlike being hit by a frag grenade full of shrapnel.

She lost consciousness immediately, vaguely aware of the woman whose life she'd saved screaming in terror, and a blinding pain that utterly overwhelmed her as she collided hard with a solid surface.

* * *

"I _told_ you this would happen! But no, you and your little goon squad are too good to take anything the great Tony Stark says seriously." The genius billionaire in question ranted, glaring at a very angry Nick Fury, who was sitting across from him in the meeting room on-board the SHIELD helicarrier. His one good eye was narrowed in irritation, and his lips were pursed as he obviously struggled not to shout insults at Tony that doubtlessly would have consisted of mostly 'mother fucker' and 'arrogant asshole'.

"There's a _reason_ I don't make weapons anymore, which ironically is the same reason I'm pissed over SHIELD refusing to hand over my old weapons that you never should have gotten a hold of in the first place. Just in case, you know, your idiot council decides to blow up the civilian population, or some terrorists that are too smart for their own good raid your warehouses." Tony continued, drumming his fingers on the glass tabletop.

"Cool your tits, Stark. I've got a team on it." Fury hissed.

"You don't get it, do you Pop-Eye? This isn't about that. How much tech did they steal? How did they even get past your security protocols? You aren't seeing the big picture. You're underestimating your adversary. This is-"

"Sir, we have a problem. Agents Smith and Decker are dead, gunned down. Steel took care of the assailants but she can't disable the bomb. She's saying it was tampered with. She's modifying it so it'll only take out the Macy's, which she's pretty sure is clear." Agent Maria Hill told them, standing in the open doorway – disappearing as soon as spoke. Tony had to admit, she looked like shit. Maria had been working like an animal since the whole alien invasion thing. He stroked his goatee as he thought about the situation, and quickly settled on the same answer as Agent Steel.

"Assuming it was modified in the sense that I'm imagining, she's one smart cookie. That's the only way out of this if the bomb's already live." Tony said thoughtfully.

"She_ is_ one of our best." Fury admitted. "Ex-Mafia hitwoman; probably the only one of these idiots I call agents that can hold her own in sparring match with Romanov. She's usually reserved for covert ops and high profile assassinations, but she happened to be in the area." That made Tony raise his eyebrows. She must really be something if it took Natasha some effort to kick her ass. _It really is too bad I have a personal policy about not sleeping with SHIELD agents_, he thought to himself as he had Jarvis bring up footage from outside the Macy's on a hologram screen.

He kind of wished he didn't. The first thing they saw was a woman and child flying through the glass doors that shattered as they hit them. It was pretty obvious that someone had thrown them out of the building. Man, did he know _that_ feeling. At least they didn't plummet from fifty floors up, and it looked like the glass was shattered with gunshots first. The next thing was the explosion, which could only possibly be described as _spectacular. _Tony winced as he saw a woman in a catsuit like Natasha's try to make a run for it, but she didn't make it and was blown clear into the side of another building. Luckily, the explosion only took out the Macy's building. The surrounding structures were damaged, but intact and no one on the streets had been close enough to get caught up in it – seeing as everyone was giving the place a wide birth after the shooting earlier. The woman covered the child's eyes when he turned to look for the Agent that got blown to kingdom come. That couldn't be a good sign.

"Sir." Maria butted in again. "We have detonation, and Steel's down. I don't know if she's dead, but she's definitely unconscious. I can't get her vitals online; there's too much interference from the bomb."

"Stark, get down there! You'll be there faster than a response team! Try to keep the media out. I'll get Rogers and Romanov to back you up as soon as they can." Fury barked, tearing his gaze away from the live feed. Tony swore, shaking his head and went to do as he was told – for once. Though, it wasn't because Fury told him to, because fuck that. The bomb had his name on it, and he always felt personally responsible about shit like this happening after the mess in Afghanistan. It didn't help much that he'd pretty much just watched a SHIELD agent get herself killed because she hesitated to save a couple civilians. That surprised him. Tony wouldn't put it past most of SHIELD to just say 'fuck it' and leave them there to save their own hide. Agent Steel had to be dead, though. There was just no way in hell that she'd survived the impact.

Well, maybe she did. If Steel wasn't dead, Tony was sure she would be in a few days from internal bleeding, judging from the cloud of debris that engulfed her and the sheer force that she hit the wall with. Kind of a shame really, if she had the brains to rewire one of _his _bombs, she sounded like someone worth trying to rope into helping the Avengers out. Tony tried not to think about it as he suited up. He had to secure the area and keep the civilians out in case the terrorists sent more of their lackeys in to finish the job, never mind the damned media.


	2. A Killer is Born

**Notes:** I should probably note that I'm kind of imagining Tony to be like 35 rather than his actual age for this story.

**Warning:** Kind of child abuse/Neglect. Could be a trigger?

* * *

**Chapter 2:** A Killer is Born

* * *

A little girl, no older than five, wearing a filthy once-white dress sat alone in a dank wine cellar beneath a bustling gourmet restaurant in Florence that had been in business since the Renaissance. She was a waif of a creature with a gaunt face, dull grey eyes and very thin due to only being fed once every two days with scraps from the restaurant's waste. Her mouse-brown hair was matted with filth. The only thing of value she possessed was a solid gold crucifix that hung from her neck on a thin gold chain. She thinks it belonged to her mother, but she can't really remember her mother. She only remembers the screaming, and the blood – warm as it gushed from a lifeless form to pool at her shaking feet.

Her parents were Mafia. But they got involved in something they knew full well that they should have stayed out of. They paid with their lives, and no one would ever find their bodies. Of course, their orphaned daughter didn't really understand that. No, she knew only the 'kindness' and 'mercy' of the man her parents had worked for.

Dante Carnivale was his name. He was a well known restauranteur by day, and the leader of a very powerful branch of the Italian Mafia by night. In other words, everyone knew who he was and what he did, but no one would _dare_ touch him. He had the police in his pocket and the politicians wrapped around his pudgy little finger. The girl knew him as a terrifying monster of a man, who taught her the meaning of pain and fear. If he told her to do something, she did it without hesitation. Punishment for disobedience was severe.

The first time she rebelled, she was beaten bloody and left without food for a week. She survived by killing and eating a rat in the wine cellar. But she was strong. She promised herself to avenge her family's murder – whatever it might take. The second time she rebelled, she was left with a broken leg and a jagged, almost lightening bolt shaped gash in her left cheek from the heavy gold ring Dante wore when he backhanded her across the face. The gash healed into a gruesome scar, leaving her face forever marred. She did not rebel a third time.

The child cringed at the memory and took the little gold crucifix between dirty, little fingers. "Father in heaven, may you deliver me safely from harm and give me the courage to do what I must to survive." She whispered in a broken voice, fighting tears that stung her eyes. As if on cue, the door to the kitchens burst open, bathing her in a sliver of light. Fearfully, she looked up at the giant of a man standing there.

"Assunta!" He shouted. She scrambled to her knees, with her hands on the floor in front of her and her head bowed.

"How may I serve you, Il mio salvatore (my savior)?" The little girl, Assunta, said with practiced calm.

"I have a job for you. Do well, and you will be given a proper room, and another job to follow. If you do as you are told, you will be rewarded for each task you complete. If you defy me, or botch an assignment you _will_ be punished. Refuse me now, and you will breathe your last." Dante said and pressed the barrel of a handgun to her head.

Assunta fought the urge to look up at him. Looking up at him meant getting his boot in her face, or worse. But she didn't have to see him to envision the hulking, bald-headed Italian businessman with a neatly shaved black goatee who was most likely dressed in an Armani suit. It smelled like he even had one of his favorite cigars clenched between his yellowing teeth.

"I will accept your most generous offer. What you would have me do?" Assunta asked, hiding her inner terror behind a carefully constructed veil of calm and willing submission. Her only answer was a soft metallic clatter, as a dagger fell to the stone floor in front of her with a sealed envelope. With that, Dante Carnivale turned on his heel and left her. With shaking hands, Assunta tore open the envelope. She knew how to read, of course, she had been a privileged little girl who attended a _very_ expensive private Catholic school and was considered a child prodigy before her parents' deaths.

The envelope contained the address of a man that had betrayed Dante's organization. The punishment: death to be dealt by Assunta's hand. It was genius, really. Who would suspect a five year old girl to be capable of murder? ...No one that hadn't met a desperate, starving five year old girl with an IQ far beyond her years in fear for her life, and driven by revenge.

Assunta knew she had no choice, so she steeled herself and walked right out the door that Dante had left open for her. Two hours later, she stood over the corpse of a man that she had stabbed to death in his sleep. He lived alone, and Dante's men had seen to it that his doors were unlocked for her. It was a test. She knew that. Dante wanted to know how far Assunta could be pushed. She looked down at her small hands, covered in still-warm blood and frantically wiped them on the white sheets.

Trembling, her dress as stained as her hands were, Assunta stood at the edge of a sewer grate in the streets of Florence some time later.

"My Lord, forgive me for I have sinned, as I forgive you for failing to protect me and my loved ones." Assunta whispered to the night and ripped the crucifix from her neck. "May the man whose life I have ended this night know peace, for I never shall so long as I breathe." With that, she let the only thing of meaning that she possessed fall through the cracks of the sewer grate with a quiet tinkling as it fell.

* * *

"Is she alive?" Tony asked, landing near the place where Agent Steel had been blown into the side of the building. The woman she'd rescued was standing over her looking horrified and trying to dial 911 on her cellphone with badly shaking hands.

"I-I think so. Oh my God! You're Iron Man! I - She's breathing, anyway." The woman said. "She saved us..."

"Good. I know. Get away from here; it isn't safe. I'll make sure that she gets medical attention." Tony said and winced when he finally looked at the prone form of Agent Steel, whose body was twisted at a horribly unnatural angle. "Give me vitals, Jarvis." Tony said to his AI, when the woman grabbed her child and left.

"_Not good, sir. Her pulse is weak, blood pressure is dangerously low and she appears to suffering major spinal damage with possible irreversible quadriplegia. There are also several minor injuries and broken bones as well internal bleeding. Her likelihood of survival is two percent." _Jarvis replied as the actual stats showed up in the HUD for him to see, titled as 'Agent Hollie Anne Steel (Assunta Belinda Antonelli)'.

"Shit." Tony cursed and shook his head as he wondered how in the fuck she was still breathing at all. "Steel's a wreck. Vitals are low, Jarvis' sensors are showing full-body paralysis and major spinal injuries." He said over the comms to Fury who swore like a sailor.

"I don't care. Get her to a hospital and have them at least _try_ to get her stabilized. I need to know what happened in there. How the fuck does she get herself killed doing this when she decimated three entire Vatican police squads in under sixty seconds with nothing but two throwing knives and didn't get as much as a scratch?" Fury growled. Tony sighed and very carefully lifted Agent Steel from the ground hoping he wasn't just doing more damage.

* * *

"Any last requests? You put up one hell of a fight, I can at least give you this much."

"Sì (yes). Please don't kill me, Signora (Madam). I have never had the chance to truly live, and I have yet to avenge the deaths of my family who were slain by the very monsters I unwillingly serve." Assunta (then twenty-eight years old and one of the Italian Mafia's most notorious and highly paid hitmen) said to the red-headed Russian spy who had her pinned to the ground with a gun at her throat. Assunta closed her eyes and waited for death to come as life went on in the bustling streets of the Vatican City above them. Perhaps it was fate. Assunta didn't really _want_ to kill the Cardinal believed to be next in line for the Papacy, even if she _had_ stopped believing in God the night she committed the first of her countless murders. She just wished she didn't have to die in a rank sewer, of all places.

"Fine." The spy said and removed the gun. "I have a better idea, anyway. It would be a damn shame to waste your skills. From now on, you are an agent of SHIELD."


	3. Survival is a Necessary Evil

**Chapter 3:** Survival is a Necessary Evil

* * *

"Talk to me, Stark. What's going on in there?" Fury said as he entered the nearly deserted hospital waiting room with Natasha, Bruce and Steve behind him sometime near midnight. Tony thought he must look completely ridiculous sitting there on the floor reading a year old copy of _Esquire_ in his Iron Man suit. The teenage girl giggling and taking pictures with her cellphone nearby sure thought so. He snapped the magazine closed and tossed it in her direction. The poor thing actually swooned and glanced around warily as she snatched it and shoved it in her purse before scurrying out the door, leaving Tony alone with the others.

"I've got good news and bad news." Tony said with a heavy sigh. "The good news: She's stable and it's just a bunch of hairline fractures with no major organ damage. The Kevlar must have absorbed some of the impact. The bad news... Major spinal trauma and full-body paralysis. Basically, she'll be a vegetable for as long as she's alive. Which will be like a week, tops because her body's full of shrapnel from the metal in the debris that hit her."

"They can't remove the shrapnel?" Steve asked, running his fingers through his blonde hair. Natasha frowned absently and looked at her feet. If Tony had to guess, she looked sad. And that was by no means an expression he was used to seeing on the Black Widow's face. Bruce remained expressionless, but seemed deep in thought.

"No. Not all of it anyway. And I don't know what difference it would make if the only part of her body she'll be able to move is her head. Maybe. She's kind of in a shock-induced coma at the moment, but her brain functions are normal." Tony explained.

"...Maybe we could fix that." Bruce interjected and leaned down to tap the chest plate of Tony's suit that covered the miniaturized arc reactor implanted in his chest with a wink.

"That would work for the shrapnel, yeah, but not the paralysis. ...Never mind that that we're talking millions as far as cost is concerned just for the materials to build the device." Tony replied. Bruce sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose.

"Well, the nervous system is run on miniscule electrical charges. Maybe it _could_ work with the right wiring." Bruce thought aloud. Tony drummed his armored fingers on the carpeted floor. Now _that _was a pretty badass idea.

"Yeah maybe but you, or someone who actually knows medical crap, needs to figure out the 'wiring'." Tony suggested with a shrug. "I'm not sure it's a good idea for me to play God with actual living things. I think we all know how that will end." Fury just shook his head.

"Yeah, she'll die because you'll be too busy getting drunk and laid to remember to feed her. That's why we don't let you have pets, remember?" Natasha said with a snort and two very serious nods from Bruce and Steve. Tony just mumbled mutinously under his breath.

"Steel isn't worth that kind of money for an entirely experimental procedure." The director of SHIELD snapped. "I guess I'll have to find a new rat in the Mafia. I'm going back to the base. Romanov, get me a full report of what happened there based on what's left for visual evidence." Natasha nodded silently, but didn't follow Fury. The way she glared daggers at him as he turned back wasn't lost on Steve or Bruce.

"Natasha?" Steve asked, curiously. "What's bugging you?"

"I'll miss her, that's all Cap." The spy said in a flat voice without the faintest trace of emotion. "Hollie gave me one hell of a run for my money when I was sent to kill her, so decided to recruit her instead. We're a lot alike, sometimes it's like looking in a mirror. I suppose the least I can do is some digging, and try to avenge her family for her. That was the only thing she was living for in the end, really." Steve shifted uncomfortably on his feet and glanced out the window at the snow-covered parking lot that glistened in the light from the streetlamps. Fury's reaction didn't sit well with the super soldier and they all knew it. Tony bit his lip and looked up at Bruce.

Let it never be said that Tony Stark is a heartless asshole.

"Bruce, get a hold of Doctor Strange. He's the only one with the know-how we need who won't tell Fury the time of day. Hopefully he can keep the voodoo out of it. The two of you can work on a way to deal with the paralysis while I build another one of these puppies. She can have my spare one for now so she doesn't shove off before you figure out the hard part." Tony said with an awkward smile and laid his hand over the arc reactor.

"Nat, get her moved to the medical facilities at Stark Tower – the high security section. Consider it a Christmas present, Jamie Bond, because I totally don't know what the fuck to get a homicidal maniac, and you look like a sad lost kitten. Like seriously. I don't think I could handle you crying. It would be a sign of the apocalypse." He added to Natasha who scoffed and glared at him. She was _not _crying, or pouting in the slightest.

"...Jamie bond?" Steve asked. All three of the others rolled their eyes. They were really going to have to sit down and have Steve make a list of 21st century shit to catch up on.

* * *

Hollie tried to open her eyes, to move, to do well, _anything. _It was useless, though. Her body was entirely unresponsive and she couldn't seem to feel anything at all below her shoulders. Hollie could remember the explosion, but nothing past that. She figured she must be in a hospital, that obnoxious beeping could only be a heart monitor. _Unless Dante finally got me and has me drugged,_ she thought painfully. Wherever she was, she had to find a way out. The Mafia hunted her at every turn, but for the most part SHIELD caught them sniffing and dealt with it. The ones SHIELD didn't catch, well, no one would ever find the bodies. Hollie was the best at what she did, except maybe for Natasha Romanov. Either way, the two of them were easily regarded as SHIELD's deadliest agents by far with Barton as a close second. ...None of that could help her now, though.

"Hmm. I don't remember that scar, it definitely wasn't there when I found her at the scene. Hey, it's kind of lightening bolt shaped. Harry Potter, much? I wonder if she's a fangirl." She heard someone say nearby and felt a soft touch on her marred left cheek. It was a male, but not someone she knew. Still, it sounded familiar somehow. _Shit, no. Not the scar... I need to cover it, _she thought desperately.

"She's always had that, but there are dirtbags in high places who want her dead that would recognize it in an instant, so she usually covers it with makeup. And no, I _highly_ doubt Hollie is a Harry Potter fan." Hollie knew that voice and immediately relaxed. If Romanov was there, the Mafia didn't have her. _Yet._ Still, that could be worse. God only knew how bad her injuries must be. Unless...

"So, is she in the clear or what?" The same man asked again. Hollie could almost feel him fidgeting like a squirrel. Whoever he was, he was full of pent up energy and most likely utterly useless at sitting still.

"Well, she's not going to die anytime soon, whether or not she'll ever walk again is still up for debate. She's probably going to regain consciousness shortly, but just remember that she _is _paralyzed from the neck down. We're on it, but don't expect a miracle and don't lie to her." Another unfamiliar male voice, followed by the rhythmic sound of someone typing on a computer keyboard.

_Paralyzed?_ That was what he had said. _No! _ Why did they save her? Couldn't they see she was better off dead? In a desperate attempt to so much as wiggle her fingers, Hollie realized it was true and would have sobbed like a child if only she could. Instead, a mindless panic welled up inside of her because she couldn't keep running like this. They would find her. She was as good as dead. The heart monitor picked it up and she brought the panic back under control quickly to avoid and scrutiny.

"We know, Bruce. How's the little science project coming along anyway?" This was Natasha again, Hollie could sense a tiny bit of very uncharacteristic nervousness in her voice.

"Right now, we're just trying to map out her central nervous system, well, whatever's left of it. Once we have that, we can start trying to figure out how exactly to wire the arc reactor to artificially stimulate her ability to move. Honestly Natasha, she'll be lucky if she can walk. She's probably not going to be able to feel anything from the neck down, even she gets her motor skills back. ...And definitely not going to be fit for her usual line of work." The man working on the computer, Bruce, replied.

"So, I guess if she she can't feel anything - "

"Jesus Christ Stark, please tell me you didn't decide to drop half a billion dollars on this to get into her pants, because I'll warn you now – it won't happen." Natasha swore irritably. Stark, ah, _that's_ why he sounded familiar. It was hard not to think so now. Hollie had often wondered if the idiot just liked listening to the sound of his own voice after seeing so much of him on the News. Not to mention all the times she'd called Stark Tower to rip into him about hacking past her firewalls that she'd programmed for SHIELD. His own massive ego would be the death of him one day.

"Nah. Don't get me wrong, she's pretty hot for a half-dead chick. I'm actually really digging the scar. But you should know by now that I have a policy about not sleeping with SHIELD agents, especially not if they can kill me in fifty different ways with their little finger." Stark replied with a chuckle.

"Right, sure." Natasha replied, thoroughly unconvinced and Hollie could swear she heard her smirking.

"Arrogant... Son of a bitch." Hollie muttered, thinking about her few (mindlessly irritating) telephone interactions with Stark. Her eyes flew open and she blinked in surprise when she realized she'd actually been able to say the words, albeit with a slight slur.

"Aww, really? That was mean. You're breaking my heart, Sweetie." Tony drawled. Natasha snickered and looked down at Hollie with a hint of a smile. Hollie just wanted to grab Stark by the collar of his most likely overpriced dress shirt and throw him across the room. But then, she knew he had that effect on most people. _Especially_ the tech staff at SHIELD.

"Before you ask, because I know you will, you're in a private medical facility in Stark Tower." The widow explained to Hollie as she took in her surroundings - not that she could see much but the plain white ceiling and the three people standing over her. "No one knows you're here aside from the Avengers. That includes SHIELD and your old friends."

"Molto buona. (Very good)" Hollie muttered and closed her eyes before slipping back into unconsciousness.


	4. Unacceptable!

**Notes:** Poor Tony, lol.

* * *

**Chapter 4: Unacceptable!**

* * *

Tony paced the length of his workshop in agitation. His dark hair stuck up at odd angles from him running his fingers through it distractedly. Sketches for his newest project, the Mark 42 prehensile suit, lay unattended on the worktable. Pepper, who had been trying to ream him out for at least three hours for not having eaten anything all day, was also left unattended and sulking somewhere. That couldn't be good for their relationship – not that it wasn't a train wreck waiting to happen anyway. They both knew it wasn't working, but neither had the guts to say what needed to be said.

Finally, he snapped.

"Jarvis, this is fucking unacceptable." Tony said in a flat, calm tone.

"_I am doing my best, Sir. I simply cannot find an opening in the firewall. This is most unusual."_ The AI replied, sounding exasperated if that was even possible. Tony let out a string of absolutely foul swearing and threw himself into his leather office chair.

After about half an hour of some 'serious' hacking attempts, he still only had a blank screen with the SHIELD logo and 'Access Denied' stamped across it in red lettering.

"Fuck's sake." Tony hissed and sat back in his chair staring at the screen in utter disgust. "No one, and I do mean _no one _stops me from hacking a goddamn database!"

"_Sir, in most cultures talking to oneself is considered a sign of insanity." _Jarvis commented.

"Less chat, more hacking!" Tony quipped as the phone rang. He rolled his eyes; he was 99.9% sure who was on the line.

"_Director Fury is on line two, Sir." _Jarvis announced.

"Take a message!" Tony nearly shouted and kicked the leg of his desk in frustration.

"_My protocols are being overridden." _

Tony shook his head and rested it on the desk with a sigh. Not a sigh of _defeat _mind you. _It's on, bitches, _he thought to himself as Fury spoke. How _dare _he override Jarvis.

_How_ did he override Jarvis, actually?

"Stark, stop trying to hack into my motherfucking database." He spat.

"I have literally no idea what you're talking about." Tony replied and ended the call. "How the FUCK did he detect my IP? JESUS CHRIST! THIS IS UNACCEPTABLE!"

* * *

Eight hours earlier:

"Hey nerd squad! How's it going?" Tony called from the elevator when he arrived on the floor that he'd built into a lab for Bruce to work. He was there with Doctor Stephen Strange, pouring over heaps of sketches and surrounded by various holograms depicting the typical human nervous system. How they managed to work in such chaos was beyond him, even his workshop was neater than Bruce's lab at the moment and that was saying something.

"It's good to see you, Mr. Stark. I'd like to thank you, actually. This is a really intriguing concept, and I'm really looking forward to getting started!" Stephen said with a smile. He looked pretty much the way he always did, like a total eccentric, even if he was dressed in a completely normal casual suit. _It must be that weird streak of white hair_, Tony told himself.

"Awesome, so where are we at with that?" He asked.

"We're making good progress, but we're going to have to make some kind of a prototype and test it on something that _isn't _Hollie." Bruce explained. "Actually, I can't believe I'm really asking you to do this, but could hack into SHIELD's database and get her medical records? We're going to need them and Natasha was pretty adamant about them not knowing she's here."

"Yeah sure, hacking SHIELD's shit is a cakewalk." Tony said with a shrug. Well, maybe it _used _to be, but the last few times he'd had to give it some actual effort. They obviously had someone new that actually knew what they were doing coding their security programs.

* * *

"Shit just got real, Jarvis. Pull out the big guns – run the Drunken Monkey protocol." Tony snarled and held his head in hands. He tapped his foot impatiently on the floor and worked on repairing a damaged gauntlet as he waited for the firewall to finally collapse.

"_Access is still denied, Sir." _The AI replied after about fifteen minutes.

"Drunken Monkey?" Tony heard a familiar voice ask just as he absolutely lost it and fired a repulsor beam from the gauntlet he was working on straight through the projection of the SHIELD database home screen. It left a smoldering hole in the wall.

"You don't want to know; I was being a real dick when I came up with that one." Tony said, turning to Natasha who was standing in the doorway to his workshop. At least he didn't have to be freaked out by that; she had clearance. "Fuck, Tasha, who the hell have they got on security? No one beats me at this shit. _No one_." Tony whined.

"Ask Hollie, she designed the firewalls Fury's using now. She wasn't just a hitwoman, you know. When the Mafia needed to hack into secure government files to make sure something that's dead and buried _stays _dead and buried, she did the dirty work. Though, you might want to have some kind of a peace offering, because she can't stand you. I didn't know until now that she called to rip you a new hole a hundred and one times for hacking our servers. Hmm. She's not _at all_ thrilled to be in your debt." Natasha said thoughtfully. Tony raised his eyebrows and burst out laughing.

"Oh fuck me, that was _her_? That's... probably going to get me killed. Anyway, fine. It's not like I have a choice." Tony grumbled.

"Admitting defeat, Tony?"

"Just shut up."

* * *

Hollie bitterly stared at the plain white ceiling above her. She'd been moved into a regular guest bedroom in Stark's penthouse, mainly because of it being the highest security area in the Tower aside from his workshop. The TV was playing a _Twilight Zone _marathon – Apparently it was New Year's day. Much more of this and she'd lose it. Thank God she had not a shred of shame, or this would be even worse, if at all possible. If only she could just pick up the damned remote. Hollie glanced at it longingly and sighed.

She was aware of the arc reactor implanted in her chest, but couldn't feel or see it since she wasn't able to sit up. Perhaps that was a blessing. Bruce had held up a mirror for her so she could at least see it, and she was sure she would be in mindless pain if she were capable of feeling anything. Hollie could hear a soft humming sound coming from it if it was quiet enough, and see its faint blue glow the dark. Oddly, it didn't really bother her. If anything, it fascinated her. Hollie was an expert hacker, and through that line of work she developed a deep appreciation for well-made tech. And who was she to complain if the contraption could get her back on her feet? Running from the Mafia is pretty hard when one can't literally run.

At least the room was nice. The modern décor was very tasteful and there was a breathtaking view of Manhattan through the massive windows that surrounded the entire room, aside from the wall separating it from the rest of the penthouse. The TV, in fact, was a projection built into the glass of the window directly in front of the bed. She grudgingly had to admit that it was pretty impressive.

Still, she'd give just about anything to just _change the damn channel!_

"Fuck my life." She muttered and closed her eyes as someone knocked on the door.

"Hey, hope you're decent! I guess you would be since you can't exactly debauch yourself in the state you're in, right?" Stark. Again. _Ugh. _He, of course, let himself in. For the most part, he'd kept his distance, which was fine with Hollie. She didn't _hate _Stark, he just annoyed the living shit out of her, and she was _nearly_ positive he was doing it on purpose. Though, most of the reason for her miniscule amount of patience where he was concerned could be attributed to her distinct lack of a sense of humor.

"Out." Hollie snapped.

"So, I was thinking that you must be bored out of you mind and -"

"Out. Get. _Out_."

"I decided to load Jarvis into this room since it's already outfitted with projectors and audio sensors. This way you've got the internet, TV, music, porn... whatever. The system is entirely voice operated to make access easier for you. Just be nice, Jarvis hates criticism." Tony continued, ignoring Hollie entirely.

"_A reflection of my creator, surely._" The AI replied.

"Don't sass me, Jarv. Anyway, if you need anything – literally _anything, _that includes booty calls, Jarvis will either do it for you, or get one of us to." Tony said and gave Hollie a shit eating grin.

"Leave me alone." She said flatly.

"You're welcome! Now how the flying fuck do I get through your firewall? Because Bruce needs your medical records to fix you, and SHIELD can't know you're here right now." That got Hollie's attention and her lips twitched into a smirk.

"I finally beat you." She said somewhat proudly.

"For now. I'll get through it eventually, but my girlfriend will probably murder me if I spend another eight hours swearing at my AI instead of having sex with her." Tony said, laughing.

"_You _have a girlfriend? That poor woman. Siete antipatici. (You are obnoxious)." Hollie muttered.

"I know I'm obnoxious. I like me that way. Anyway, I'm trying to help you, so drop me a damn line would you, Buttercup?" Tony said in exasperation.

"_Never_ call me that again. The administrator password is 'magPie221', the override code is 12414649. That will give you anonymous access. If an IP is somehow detected, it'll show Director Fury as the one logged in, with the time stamp being the last time he legitimately accessed the mainframe." Hollie told him irritably. If it bothered her that Tony understood her complaining about him in Italian, she made no indication.

"Holy shit. You're a_ genius_." Tony said appreciatively.

"I know. I am no engineer, but no computer is safe from me." She said and grinned wolfishly. "Now get the hell out."

"What is your problem with me, exactly?" Tony asked, finally getting annoyed with Hollie's attitude.

"Do you recall that time you got caught snooping in SHIELD's weapons development files?" Hollie asked bitterly.

"Uh, which time do you mean?" Hollie rolled her eyes. He had a point.

"The time you were slightly intoxicated and called me a cunt. There's also the time after that when you accused me of being a fat virgin nerd who is actually a man, and stated that I live in my mother's basement." Hollie said, glaring daggers at Tony who winced a little bit as the memories flashed through his mind. "You may want to be proud of yourself, Stark. The only other man who had the balls to call me 'cunt' is dead, and no one will ever find his corpse. Which, I might add, is missing his most valuable 'assets'."

"Yeah. Sorry about that. I'll just uh. ...I'll go now." Tony said with a sheepish smile and slunk out of the room.

"Jarvis?" Hollie said experimentally when Tony left. "Fox News please."

"_Very well, Ms. Steel." _The AI replied and the TV switched to the news. She hated to admit it, but Stark's AI was pretty awesome.

"One other thing, Jarvis. I want you to access SHIELD's weapons development server. Password: 'eDen471-A', remote access override code: 67894523-3461." Hollie said to the AI, as she did a hologram screen popped up in front of her showing the file directory.

"_Access has been granted, Ms. Steel." _Jarvis confirmed.

"Download copies of all the files from the 'storage' directory, and send it to Stark on a secure server. Tell him: Il mio debito è pagato; buon Natale tardivo. (My debt is paid; merry belated Christmas.)" Hollie commanded with a mischievous smile.


	5. The End is Really the Beginning

**Notes: ** Thanks for the reviews guys!

* * *

**Chapter 5:** The End is Really the Beginning.

* * *

Pepper was absolutely furious when Tony finally emerged from the workshop after forwarding Hollie's medical history to Bruce and Stephen. The glare she gave him could have made hell freeze over as he casually strode into the penthouse lounge. He tried to ignore it, but failed miserably. It didn't help that she was still all dressed up in a glittering blue evening gown and had her reddish hair tied into elaborate up-do that she'd obviously spent a great deal of time working on.

"Tony." Pepper said in an aggravated Tone. "We had plans."

"I ran into a speed bump." He said with a shrug. "I'm sorry Peps, there's a life hanging in the balance. It's kind of important."

"Hacking into SHIELD's files is more important than a date that we planned months ago?" Pepper complained. "Blowing up the walls when you can't do it is fine, too, I guess." Tony rolled his eyes.

"Pepper, please -"

"No, Tony. You never have time for me, and when you do, you're off doing something reckless that's probably going to get you blown up and you'll end up just like that SHIELD agent. Is that what you want? Do You have any idea how that makes me feel? One day, you just might not be here anymore and I don't know if I can take that anymore! I can't bear the thought of you dying!" Pepper ranted.

"'That SHIELD agent' has a name, even if she _is_ an ornery bitch." Tony grumbled. "Pepper, I love you, but what you're asking me to do is to change who I am. I can't do that."

"Because you're so damn selfish! All you _ever_ think about is yourself!" She cried, tears welling in her eyes.

"Yeah, I am, but so are you. I can only compromise so much, but you won't even try." Tony retorted.

"Fine. I guess this is how it has to end." Pepper said tearfully.

"Pepper, I only want for you to be happy. But I don't think I'm in a position to give you that." Tony said sadly.

"You never were." She said and stormed away.

"Pepper! Just... Please don't quit on me. I still need... I still _want_ you to be my CEO. You're really the best there is when it comes to Stark Industries." Tony called. She nodded stiffly and got into the elevator. Tony watched her go, and collapsed onto the couch with his head in his hands when she did. He knew it was coming, he just didn't expect to play out like that. ...Like some shitty chick flick. He knew she'd come around, he knew that once Pepper had some time to herself they could go back to being friends like they always were. She and Rhodey were all he had before the Avengers, and Tony knew Pepper wouldn't just turn tail and never speak to him again. She wasn't like that. Still, it _was _fucking depressing.

Tony walked over to the bar and grabbed a bottle of the most expensive scotch he had.

"Jarvis, I'm going to drink myself into a goddamn coma, and unless I'm literally showing signs of alcohol poisoning, _do not_ interrupt me." He said blankly.

"_As you wish, Sir. I shall not disturb your ill-advised pity party."_ Jarvis responded as Tony pulled the cork out of the scotch and took a gulp of it. He didn't even bother with a glass, the whole bottle was as good as gone and it would probably be followed by more.

* * *

Hollie lay staring at the ceiling, lost in her thoughts as she recalled (and tried to forget) Pepper's muffled argument with Tony the night before. She felt a little bad for him, as much of an ass as Stark was, he seemed to really care about Potts. Not that it made a difference to Hollie. She didn't do relationships, or even sex for the most part – unless seducing the right men got her in a better position to carry out a job. Who could love a cold hearted killer like her, anyway? The closest thing she had ever had to a friend was Natasha, and even her Hollie kept at an arm's length.

"Jarvis, tilt the bed up a bit and turn the History channel on." She said with a sigh. A news report of another terrorist attack in Chicago that left thirty civilians dead vanished and was replaced with a documentary about the Roman catacombs.

"Ugh, on second thought just shut the TV off." Hollie groaned. She spent more than enough time crawling through those dusty catacombs to infiltrate high security areas in Rome. The last thing she needed was to be reminded of now was her days in the Mafia that really weren't all that far in her past. It had only been two years since Assunta Antonelli joined up with SHIELD and became Hollie Steel.

She looked out the window at the view of Manhattan, desperate to be walking the streets of New York that she knew almost as well Florence by now. Granted, much was changed in the aftermath of the Chitauri invasion, but New York was still New York and life goes on as it always had.

"Morning sunshine." Hollie turned her head to glare at Tony who was standing in the doorway to her room.

"To whom do I owe this pleasure?" She asked sarcastically.

"Well, I guess you could blame Natasha, she's off doing SHIELD shit, so I'm looking after you for the day." Tony rambled, attempting sarcasm but missing the mark by a mile.

"Meaning that you're not allowed to leave because you spent the night drinking after Miss Potts broke up with you, and your friends worry for your health. I don't blame them considering what your SHIELD files say of your destructive tendencies." Hollie commented, smirking. Natasha wasn't the only living lie detector working for SHIELD.

"Pepper didn't break up with me, not that it's any of your business." Tony snapped coldly.

"I can smell the alcohol on your breath from here. You're wearing the same clothes as yesterday, but they're wrinkled so I would assume that you slept in them, rather than simply having chose to wear them again. Your posture suggests back pain – probably from leaning over the toilet with a hangover for the better part of the morning. Your tone of voice has none of it's usual arrogance, which implies emotional stress, thus your reason for drinking so heavily. Do you need more? I'm sure that's enough to reinforce my conclusion that Miss Potts has left you, when taking into consideration the argument you had last night. I don't need to be able to move to know how to think or be observant of my surroundings, Mr. Stark. Please do not insult my intelligence." Hollie said in a flat, even tone. Tony blinked at her in surprise, speechless for a moment.

"I'm right, of course." She added, smiling in amusement at the look on Tony's face.

"Are you the Sherlock to my Watson?" He asked, some of his sarcasm finally returning.

"I have no idea what you are talking about, Stark."

"Christ. Don't you watch TV, or movies or read? You're as bad as Captain Cockblock." Tony said incredulously.

"I was raised as a thrall to the Mafia. I kill people, hack into secure networks, and kill some more people. Sometimes I seduce them if absolutely necessary, but I by far prefer killing them rather than debasing myself. I behave more like a machine than a human, and do not let emotion cloud my judgement. I knew nothing else before Agent Romanov brought me to SHIELD. Altre domande? (Any more questions?)" Hollie retorted.

"Machine might be halfway fitting by the time Bruce and Merlin are done with you. You'll be like the Terminator but ten times sexier." Tony said, knowing the random references would probably annoy her. "Anyway, I finished building your arc reactor so I can have my spare back. We'll switch it out later. That might hurt like a bitch, or it won't. I have no idea if you'll be able to feel it or not."

"As you wish." Hollie muttered. "The end is never _really _the end. It is always the beginning of something new – for better or worse. Instead of drowning yourself in scotch, you should be looking for a different woman who accepts you as you are. Self-pity will lead you nowhere."

"Hmm. Jarvis, turn on BBC's _Sherlock_ and don't let her change the channel or turn it off. Buon divertimento, cari. (Have fun, dear.)" Tony said with a wicked grin and left the room. He could hear Hollie swearing all the way to the elevator. Tony wasn't sure he if he should be disgusted or proud of himself that he remembered so much Italian from the classes he'd been forced to take as electives back in his days at MIT. Either way, he was definitely going to brush up on it to piss off Hollie, which may or may not have been his new favorite pastime. ...Even if it was probably going to get him killed.

Hollie glared in loathing at the opening credits of _Sherlock. _She couldn't do anything about it; there was no way she could hack Jarvis remotely without access to a separate server, which she obviously did not have.

"Che bastardo. (That bastard.)" She growled to herself, and realized that it was mostly Stark purposely making her angry that had so far prevented her from falling into self-pity of her own. She was too preoccupied with wanting to wring his neck to be too bothered by the fact that she couldn't even twitch her fingers. Maybe it was his own way of intentionally distracting her from how miserable she actually was. Hollie had to admit, it was a lot more effective than half-assed concern and corny get-well cards.


	6. The Tea Party

**Chapter 6:** The Tea Party

* * *

"Just out of curiosity, why didn't you go back into Neurosurgery? This is genius... Absolutely incredible." Bruce breathed, observing a formerly paraplegic brown and white spotted rat they'd picked up from a pet shop, that was now shambling along awkwardly on the lab counter. That had to be better than being snake food, right? Though, rather than an arc reactor, the power source was a re-chargeable lithium camera battery strapped to her back. Stephen stroked his mustache and smiled fondly.

"Many reasons, the most important one being that there are threats to this world that only I can prevent. I cannot allow anything to come before that work." He told Bruce. "I simply could not resist this project, though. Not when the results could do so much good for people who desperately need it. ...Assuming there will ever be a way to make it cost effective."

"There might be." Bruce said thoughtfully, watching the rat (who they'd named name Lily), as she poked her nose at the edge of Bruce's notes. "Most of the people this could help won't need a power source like the arc reactor actually implanted in their body. Assuming it could be something worn externally, it opens up a whole new realm of possibility."

"I see, in that sense, yes, this could be something that might be plausible for mainstream usage eventually." Stephen answered and watched Lily lose her footing. "Perhaps not for the weak of heart, though. The recovery process is sure to be discouraging." Carefully, Stephen touched Lily's tail with the end of his pen. She turned around and looked at him curiously. _So, she _can_ feel that she's being touched. Fascinating. _

"From what Nat's said, I don't think Steel is faint of heart in the slightest." Bruce mused.

* * *

After badgering Hollie, Tony found his way to his workshop and was about to get back to work on the Mark 42 when Jarvis interrupted him.

"_Sir, there are some files that Ms. Steel asked me to forward to you. They are available on your private secure server. She said to tell you quote: __Il mio debito è pagato; buon Natale tardivo. (My debt is paid; merry belated Christmas.)"_ The AI told him. Tony raised his eyebrows.

"Merry Christmas? Huh? Bring up those files, Jarv." Tony said and nearly squealed like a little girl when he saw them. It was a complete list of every Stark weapon, and newly developed tech based on his weapons currently in SHIELD's possesion. Even better than that, it listed all their current locations and floor plans of the secret warehouses they were stored in. He wasn't sure what to do with the info that wouldn't get him thrown in jail or worse, but he knew one thing for sure – Hollie must not hate him as much as let on if she threw him a bone like this. Granted, he could have probably gotten a hold of these files in the past if he'd known where to look. SHIELD's databases were extensive and used numeric codes instead of keywords for the directories, which made searching for something you didn't know precisely where to find very difficult.

"The... Tea Party?" He said curiously and opened a directory that wasn't part of the weapons development files. It contained two text documents, one titled 'read me first' and 'The Tea Party Revolution'. Tony opened the 'read me' one. It turned out to be a note from Hollie:

* * *

Stark,

I'm not giving you access to this information to go and blow up SHIELD's warehouses – that won't solve a damn thing. The terrorist attacks that have been going on are all connected and orchestrated by a group called the 'Tea Party'. No, not the political party – though they do have some minor investment in the rebellion. Regardless, the Tea Party seeks to overthrow the government to revert to more conservative principals with a new constitution based on thoroughly bastardized principals of the Catholic faith. The Government and higher-ups at SHIELD know this, but so far they've been able to keep it quiet as far as the public is concerned.

I'm telling you this because I was assigned alongside Romanov and Barton to put a stop the rebellion, and now I can't. It won't be long until they get proper footing. They're very well-funded and have support in high places. By that, I mean the Italian Mafia and a group of Afghan Terrorists that call themselves the Ten Rings. A man by the name of Dante Carnivale is a high ranking member of the insurgence. He's using a false Identity, but I do not know it. He is Mafia, and responsible for the murder of my family. He hunts me at every turn for betraying him to join SHIELD.

Part of their plan is to seize SHIELD's weapon facilities and use their tech against them, should the government continue to ignore their demands. They have the resources to do this easily. And they will blow up as many civilians as it takes to make a point. The death toll was in the hundreds before the fiasco at the Macy's and there's been more attacks since then judging by the news. SHIELD's been covering it all up to keep the public from panicking.

If they're not stopped, there _will_ be civil war. Fury thinks it'll just go away if they don't get the media attention they're after. He's wrong. There are moles running rampant in SHIELD. It is only a matter of time.

This may wind up being a job for the Avengers, and I thought you should know before the shit hits the fan.

- Hollie

* * *

"Holy... Jarvis, get Clint's ass down here!" Tony yelled and read through the other file, which was a list of terrorist attacks that had been passed off as accidents and military training exorcizes that went awry. The only ones they didn't try to deny were the explosion at the Macy's because there were too many witnesses, and the shooting that left thirty people dead in the O'Hare Airport in Chicago. Again, too many witnesses to cover it up entirely. Though, both were labeled as Iraqi extremists rather than actual American insurgents. Typical, pin the blame on a specific ethnic group and perpetuate prejudice and biased hatred to keep the truth out of reach.

"You called?" Clint said looking around curiously.

"Yeah, those heat-seeking arrows are going to have wait until after you explain this, Legolas." Tony said, pointing at the projections of Hollie's note and the details about the terrorist attacks. Clint sighed and ran his fingers through his blonde hair that was badly in need of getting trimmed.

"It's just like she says, a fucking nightmare. There's been another three attacks since the airport – thirty seven people dead. That gas explosion this morning in Queens, the subway collapse in Newark, and the fire in Los Angeles." Clint said miserably after reading Hollie's letter.

"Hollie's right, Fury and the council aren't taking it seriously. They're a major threat; it's not just some dumb college kids rebelling against the The Man. They've got the funding and manpower to do some real damage. Right now, they're just trying to prove a point: kill as many civilians as they have to in order to get the government to meet their demands to make it stop."

"Right, we're having a team meeting tonight, because _someone_ has to take this shit seriously. Nothing pisses me off more than my tech in the hands of terrorists." Tony ground out to Clint who nodded bitterly in agreement.

"Right, team meeting it is. Nat and I were actually planning to bring it up once we got some solid intel to go by, but so far we're coming up with nothing. These guys are good, too good." Clint replied miserably.


	7. Changing the Batteries

**Notes:** Just a random disclaimer than I don't know jack crap about medical junk and 99.99% of it is made up. But hey, it's sci-fi. Anything goes.

* * *

**Chapter 7**: Changing the Batteries

* * *

"So, I got those files you sent me." Tony said to Hollie, checking over the arc reactor he'd built for her one last time before he and Bruce installed it. It was exactly the same as his, aside from a few extra plugs in the back that would be fitted with the connections for the neurotransmitters that Bruce and Stephen were working on getting the right voltage for. Once the transmitters were surgically implanted in her skull, and the reactor was plugged into the wireless receivers, it would create an electrical current to stimulate the nervous system throughout the body based on her own natural brain activity.

So far the tests with Lily were going smoothly and she was even able to feel when she was being touched in certain places where there were larger masses of nerve endings. Then, all it left was the recovery process – which would be kind of like recovering from a stroke as new neuro pathways would have to be built while Hollie learned how to walk and move all over again. Well, in a couple weeks once the many bones that had been fractured from the impact were sufficiently healed.

"Be very careful; they are dangerous." Hollie replied and glanced over at Bruce who was hooking up a heart monitor in case she went into cardiac arrest when they switched the reactor out for hers.

"Don't worry Darling, the Avengers are on the job." Tony told her and winked. 'Later' he mouthed to Bruce who looked at him with raised eyebrows.

"I should warn you; you are probably going to feel this, and it won't be pleasant." Stephen said and rolled up the sleeves of his lab coat once everything was hooked up.

"I have a very high tolerance for pain, Doctor Strange." Hollie said flatly.

"It really sucks." Tony insisted. "I would know." He added and tapped his own reactor lightly through his shirt. Hollie ignored him.

"Well, all right then. I'd tell you to hold still, but I guess that's not an issue." Tony said jokingly. Hollie had to admit that she liked that about Stark. He didn't sugarcoat things and dance around her condition like it didn't exist the way the others did. He made light of it instead. Hollie closed her eyes and held her breath when she felt Tony twist the arc reactor in its casing until it clicked and came loose. Well, she didn't really feel it, just a sort of pressure. She did, however, feel the sharp chest pains that began immediately and set the heart rate monitor off when he pulled the plug. Hollie winced, but otherwise made no indication that she was in pain. She'd been through worse – much worse.

"Bruce!" Tony said, holding his hand out for the other reactor that the doctor handed him. "You're going to be fine. Relax, Hollie." Tony said mostly for his own benefit, quickly adjusting the wiring before he finally plugged in the new reactor and locked it into the casing. This time she bit her lip as a sharp, tingling pain shot through her entire body.

"I've been through far worse than that, Stark. And here I thought this would be painful." She said sarcastically, panting as her heart rate slowly evened out.

"Did you feel it just in your chest or you whole body?" Bruce asked, typing rhythmically on the keyboard of his laptop.

"My whole body." Hollie replied. "What does that mean?"

"It means this set-up is going to work much more efficiently than the tests we've been running on Lily with a camera battery. If you felt that just now, you'll not only regain movement, but most of your feeling too once we install the rest of the hardware. Because the arc reactor is physically implanted in your body, and the casing is touching enough nerve endings, the electrical current it generates passes through your nervous system easily. If the power source was external... I'm not sure it would work as efficiently. It would still function, but likely with a noticeable amount of delay between your brain telling your body to move and the actual motion occurring. This is way there won't be a lapse, at least not a significant one." Stephen explained.

"Lily?" Hollie asked, frowning.

"Our, ah, test subject. We were lucky enough to find a pet shop selling feeder rats for snakes that happened to have one with paralysis in her back legs." Stephen said while Bruce recorded their notes. Hollie tried not to snicker as she imagined a couple of eccentric men asking around for disabled rodents.

"Ew guys, there's a rat in my tower? I kind of have a problem with that. Seriously, someone call an exterminator." Tony interjected sarcastically.

"We should introduce her to you two." Bruce said with a smile. "She's a very well-mannered little lady, Tony." Stephen just shook his head.

* * *

Later that night, Tony found himself in the lounge that had once been a break room for the Stark Industries employees that worked on the lower floors before the Chitauri invasion. The silence in the room was palpable as he, Clint and Natasha finished explaining what was in the files that Hollie had given them. The first to speak was Steve.

"Why would SHIELD keep us in the dark about this? This could have been stopped before it even became an issue." The super soldier tried to understand. Natasha shook her head and crossed her arms across her chest.

"SHIELD is under orders from the government and the council to keep the situation quiet. Sending us in would would blow the cover, since things tend to get messy when the Avengers are involved." Natasha told him.

"Fury and Hollie also think there are a few moles running around in SHIELD. If we made a move against the Tea Party, not only would they know before it happened and react accordingly, but they might retaliate against the Civilian population. They're terrorists funded by the Mafia and Ten Rings. Just because they're mostly US citizens doesn't mean they have American morals where terror is concerned." Clint added, as if it should have been obvious. More silence followed this statement, punctuated only by Tony fidgeting and tapping his fingers on the surface of the large round glass table they were all crowded around.

"They're probably right about the moles. Hollie said in her note that the Mafia's been up her ass since she defected to SHELD. Having inside men would make getting at her easier, never mind the rebellion. And if any of them have got half as many tricks up their sleeves as she does, than SHIELD is _definitely_ compromised." Tony said, breaking the uncomfortable silence. "Pointing fingers isn't going to do shit; what we need is a plan. Instead of asking 'who' and 'why', we need to know is what we're supposed to do _now_."

"You're right, Stark. For once." Natasha said with a smirk.

"Knowing what exactly we're up against is kind of important, too. We can't just go in there, guns blazing." Steve insisted.

"...Considering SHIELD doesn't even know where their base is, according to these files." Bruce commented, scrolling through the documents on Tony's tablet.

"Leave that to Hollie. With Jarvis she doesn't need to be able to type to hack into secure systems. If they've got any kind of digital trail, she'll have us a location by lunchtime tomorrow. I mean, I'm disgusted to admit it, but she knows her shit when it comes to hacking... And preventing said hacking." Tony suggested with a shrug. Natasha just gave him a look that said it was a waste of time.

"If they have a digital trail, they're using some kind of code to make it appear as mundane messaging that hasn't sent up any red flags yet. Even then, Hollie was working on it non-stop for almost two weeks before Fury sent her in to disable that bomb. She went through everything from shipping and import records to personal text messaging and came up with nothing. She would have found _something_ by now. She suspects they're communicating via private courier or by word of mouth. ..And probably getting their supplies through the same means." Natasha said flatly.

"Smart." Steve said begrudgingly. "The only way we'll find out is if we have an inside man."

"Which isn't going to happen. SHIELD tried – Hollie and Nat both. They do genetic tests on everyone who wants in to verify that aren't a government spy." Clint said miserably. "And somehow, that got access to the databases. Pretty much every covert operative in the CIA and SHIELD had their cover blown - it's a fucking nightmare."

"We barely made it out in one piece, but if it's any consolation we took at least thirty of them down when we escaped. Unfortunately sign-ups were at an abandoned warehouse and not anywhere near any kind of base. The base can't be anything large, either. They're a small group, in spite of the funding. They are very selective on who they'll accept. They only want the best – trained killers like Hollie, Clint and I." Natasha added.

"Unless they don't actually _have _a base and are operating out of several locations that wouldn't draw attention, like civilian homes." Bruce thought aloud.

"We... hadn't thought of that." Clint admitted and Natasha agreed.

"But it doesn't make finding them any easier, if anything it makes it worse." Steve said pessimistically.

The statement was followed by a tense silence and all the Avengers staring bitterly at Hollie's letter that was left open on Tony's tablet. None of them were sure where to start.


	8. First Steps

**Chapter 8:** First Steps

* * *

Two weeks later, the Avengers were no closer to uncovering any more information about the Tea Party or its allies. Hollie had suggested trying to track the sources of their supplies. Someone, somewhere, had to be acting as a go-between to get them what they needed to wreak chaos. So far, they'd come up with nothing, which was irritating the living shit out of one Tony Stark and a certain Russian super spy.

Natasha and Tony were both at the end of their patience and having a good rant about the futility of their current approach in the solitude of Tony's workshop (which was now a mess of his attempts to track the Tea Party's imports), when Doctor Stephen Strange interrupted them over the intercom.

"Doctor Banner and I have concluded all testing, and we're ready to move forward. We just need you to build the neurotransmitters to our specifications, Mr. Stark." He told them.

"Send me the specs, Doc." Tony said simply, and had it all ready to go by the following afternoon when Hollie was moved back to the tower's private (and state of the art) medical suite.

The surgery itself wasn't particularly invasive, and only took about an hour to complete. All the wiring for the arc reactor was also hooked up while Hollie was still unconscious. When she finally came awake a good five hours later with Natasha and Bruce at her side, Hollie honestly thought she had been run over by a loaded dump truck. Or _something_, because she ached all over. And then she gasped in surprise when she realized that yes, she could actually_ feel _it. Not only the pain, but the texture of the blankets she was wrapped in.

"How are we feeling?" Natasha asked.

"Like I tried to leap across the rooftops in Venice, lost my footing and landed in a gondola full of iron spikes...not that I have ever seen a gondola with a cargo quite like that." She said with a lopsided smile.

"Shit, who are you? Ezio Auditore?" So Tony was there too, she turned her head in the direction of his voice to see him leaning against a wall. She ignored his comment, even if it was a reference she actually knew. Hollie would never admit it, but when she had the rare luxury of some downtime, she spent it playing video games as an escape from reality.

"Can you feel your hands, and your legs?" Bruce asked.

"Yes." Hollie said and smiled. "I can. But I... can't move, Doctor Banner."

"Well, it's going to be a little like when you first learned to walk as a child. Your body isn't used to this, so it's going to take time and practice. You're also still under the effects of the anesthetic so your movements will be sluggish." Bruce explained and pulled her left hand from under the blanket. "Try to wiggle your fingers. You may need to actually think about what you're doing."

Hollie did, but it was less of a wiggle and more of a twitch. She tried again and managed a little better. She heaved an exasperated sigh and glared angrily at the ceiling.

"I suppose this will take some time. But some hope is better than none. Thank you for what you have done for me, Doctor Banner. Please extend my thanks to Doctor Strange as well." Hollie said quietly and managed to curl her fingers into a loose fist. "I have overcome many obstacles in my life, this is just one more. Though arguably it is the largest."

"What about me? I bankrolled this. Don't I get any thanks?" Tony said with a snort. Hollie glared at him, but her expression softened.

"You are still alive, yes? That's thanks enough, isn't it?" Hollie said, raising her eyebrows. Natasha chuckled under her breath. Tony rolled his eyes but smiled, knowing that was probably as close to an actual compliment he'd ever get from Hollie.

* * *

Another week later, Natasha and Clint were hot on the trail of a suspicious shipment headed to Texas. Well, the shipment itself wasn't suspicious, but the items _could _be used to make bombs on the cheap and were being moved in bulk. Not very _good_ bombs, mind you, but more than enough to cause a scene and at least severely injure a few people. However, they still had no concrete intel about the Tea Party's plans, or even their real motives. The attacks had decreased, but it felt more like the calm before the storm than an actual cease-fire. Something big was brewing; they were sure of it.

Hollie's condition was improving steadily. She couldn't walk yet, but she could at least feed herself and sit up in bed without any help. She was usually left with Steve or Tony to look after her, while whoever wasn't left at the tower tried their best at scouting the streets for information about the insurrection. At the current moment, Hollie was in bed watching a documentary about the religious beliefs of Native Americans which she found very interesting.

Well, she _was _anyway.

"Hey there, Scarface. You look bored." She was stuck with Stark for the day, as Steve had some kind of stupid patriotic publicity event to attend. Hollie sighed and glowered at Tony who was dressed in a pair of beaten to death jeans and a Black Sabbath t-shirt. He'd been in his workshop, obviously. He even smelled faintly of solder and motor oil. It didn't bother her, though. Hollie preferred men to smell like men rather than expensive cologne and cigar smoke.

"I do _not _look like Al Pacino, Mr. Stark. But, I am not below admitting that, yes, I am _extremely _bored." Hollie said offhandedly, and tilted her head to the side so she could see the TV around Tony who was standing in front of it.

"Okay, good, because I've got plans for you." Tony said, acting like a kid with a new toy. Hollie wasn't sure if she should be worried by that or not. "A while back the government tried to take the Iron Man suit from me. Me being me, made a dick comment about it being a high-tech prosthesis. In a way, that's kind of true for you – considering all of it came from this." He explained and touched his fingers to his arc reactor, the glow from it faintly visible beneath the fabric of his shirt.

"I am _not_ flying around in one of your toys, Stark." Hollie said resolutely.

"Yeah, not like this you're not. You'll crash into the Empire State Building or something. And then I'll somehow be the one stuck paying for it." Tony agreed. "So how about it? You're sick of lying there, right? Let's go for a walk." Hollie's eyes widened and she shook her head.

"Doctor Banner said not to try it yet." Hollie said, but a faint smile tugged at her lips. "Though, I've never really liked doing what I'm told."

"Good, because sometimes you've gotta run before you can walk." Tony said and held out his hand. "As long you swear not to murder me for being an ass, I promise I won't let you fall." Hollie nodded and took his hand. With some effort, Tony managed to get Hollie to her feet with her clinging to him for balance. Somehow, she found that a good ten times more shameful than the time she got caught giving the Italian prime minister a blowjob under his desk in exchange for intel for the Mafia.

"I don't think I can do this." Hollie said flatly.

"You don't seem like the type to just give up." Tony retorted. "One foot in front of the other. Careful, now."

"Oh, what 'type' do I seem to be, then? Enlighten me." Hollie muttered, struggling to conquer the fear of falling if she shifted her weight off one of her feet.

"Well, I could be wrong, but I think there's a sad, hurt little girl under all those thorns somewhere who just wants to be loved." Tony said with a wink. "Granted, I know next to jack shit about love, but just saying..."

"Maybe. But where the bad guys hid her away, no one can hear her crying. No one will ever find her, because she's already been shot in the heart and left to bleed out years ago." Hollie said defiantly and didn't even notice she'd taken a step until her toes snagged on the carpet, which made her stagger and fall against Tony's chest with a thump. It took all of her self-control not to pout and throw a childish little hissy fit over how goddamn _frustrating_ the whole situation was. What idiotic notion had made her think this was a good idea? Maybe if it was Steve or Banner it would be fine. Stark _obviously_ had ulterior motives.

"Nah, her heart's bulletproof." Tony said and tapped his fingers against the class casing of Hollie's arc reactor as he pushed her back onto her feet. "Literally, that glass_ is _bulletproof and then some."

"Are you trying to get into my pants?" Hollie asked, raising her eyebrows. "It's not working. Si dovrà fare di meglio. (You will have to do better than that.)"

"Nope, just trying to remind you that there's more to living than just surviving." Tony said and winked.

"You are a pathetic liar. You just want someone, meaning _anyone_, to talk to because you're falling apart over your little break-up, and none of your friends give a rat's ass because they're too busy tracking down terrorists. I just happen to be the only one who can't physically evade you." Hollie said, but there was no hint of the usual venom in the words.

"Guilty as charged, Ms. Holmes." Tony said with a shrug. The truth _really_ was that he didn't want to be alone. There was an epic meltdown coming and if he didn't distract himself he was going to lose his shit – and it wouldn't be pretty. He couldn't keep forcing the thoughts of Pepper out of his mind forever.

"It was almost a month ago. Man up, Stark." Hollie snapped and carefully plopped down on the edge of the bed. "I don't do sympathy."

"If I wanted sympathy I'd go to a bar, get drunk, and whine about it while a bunch of gold-digging sluts hang off my arms and lie about how bad they feel for me." He replied and sat on the bed next to her. It was good to see Hollie sitting up straight, it was a major improvement from a week ago and Bruce was amazed at how quickly she was regaining movement.

"What do you want, exactly?"

"Distraction, but I'm out of shit to blow up."

"Stark, is your right hand injured?" Hollie asked, looking at him perfectly innocently.

"No, why?"

"Molto buona. (Very good). Distract _yourself_, preferably in your own room." Hollie muttered.

"That _may_ have been the single most creative way to tell someone to go fuck themselves that I've ever heard." Tony said, and laughed in spite of himself. "You're a bitch, you know that?"

"I am aware, yes." Hollie said and gave him a light shove. "Out. I've had all I can stand of you for one day."


	9. Alone

**Notes:** Apologies for the lack of updates. Life is a wreck. :c

Warnings: Murder, angst and thoughts of suicide.

* * *

**Chapter 9: **Alone

* * *

"A little girl that wants to be loved... Non è sbagliato. (He isn't wrong.) But it is too late for that, even if only to protect anyone that would ever love me. _He_ always takes them away..." Hollie mumbled to herself and vacantly looked down at the bustling streets of Manhattan through the window. Maybe there was a time that she was naïve enough to think that someone might find it in their heart to accept her. _Maybe._ Stark was right about one thing though, her heart may not be bulletproof, but it was certainly solid steel.

Hollie learned early on not to let emotion cloud her judgment, even if meant that sometimes it was easier to just feel nothing at all. She never regretted what she did, though she knew it was the devil's work. She didn't have a choice, so why bother with guilt?

Well, that isn't right. There was _always_ the guilt after that one time; it just missed the mark a bit.

* * *

A young Italian woman sat alone at a small bistro table outside of an unassuming cafe in Florence, on a temperate spring day. She was a lithe creature with a slender frame and waist-length brunette hair. Though, her beautiful face was marred by a jagged scar on her left cheek.

She took a sip of an iced coffee and watched as a businessman with a short, stocky build entered the cafe, his formal black suit in stark contrast to the casual atmosphere and bright colors. The young woman absently smoothed a few wrinkles out of her pale yellow dress and watched the door. Assunta Antonelli may have been one of the Italian Mafia's best, even at such a young age, but the sixteen-year-old girl in the little yellow dress certainly did not look the part of a trained killer. Which may, in fact, have been her most deadly weapon.

After a few moments, the man came back with a coffee in a Styrofoam cup and nonchalantly took the seat across from her.

"Per questo motivo egli ha inviato? (Why has he sent you?)" He asked, his voice heavy with a Sicilian accent. She only smiled, wistfully as he took a long drink of his coffee.

"Addio." She said cheerfully and stood with the grace of a woman twice her age. "For the betrayal of our mutual friend, your punishment is death." The man gaped at her, but couldn't reply as he clutched at his stomach and fell, twitching from his chair. The woman didn't even look at him as she strolled away, with a smirk.

"I will see you in hell, Assunta!" He managed to gag, just as a crowd began gathering.

"Cyanide. Troppo tardi. (Too late.)" She mumbled without stopping as she walked away. He twitched once more and went limp. The crowd paid her no mind as she disappeared among them... And managed to sneak back into her high school classroom without anyone even noticing she'd left.

She fidgeted uncomfortably in the cheap plastic chair, and watched the clock on the wall as the teacher rambled on about the Renaissance period of Italy's history. Assunta didn't care. Dante was proud of his heritage, and every day was some other bit of nonsense about those years. How many sculptures and paintings had he made her steal for his little collection at his mansion? She'd lost count years ago. The only one that really excited her was the Michelangelo, and that was only because it had been such a difficult job.

Eventually the bell rang, and the class filed out of the room, another young girl with inky black hair and bouncing curls was instantly at Assunta's heels.

"Assunta! Assunta! You should come by my place later! You like art, right? Papa just bought a lovely Renaissance era statue for the collection. It is Venus from the Greek myths." She said excitedly.

"Your Papa also said you should stay away from me." Assunta said blankly.

"Because you are an orphan; he is superstitious and thinks I will catch your bad luck or something. It's silly. Please come over!" She chatted, and tripped on the edge of her long powder blue skirt as she struggled to keep up with Assunta's brisk pace.

"No, Maria. I can't. I have work to do." Assunta said. "Tomorrow?"

"Yes tomorrow!" Maria agreed and waved goodbye as they parted ways outside of the school building.

Tomorrow, as it happened, was the last day that Maria ever spoke to Assunta.

"My Papa... He is dead." Maria cried, resting her face on her knees where she was curled up on one of the benches outside the school the next morning.

"He... What happened?" Assunta asked, genuinely surprised, as she placed a hand comfortingly on Maria's shoulder. She shrugged it off and glared at Assunta with a pure hatred that she had never before seen in the cheerful young woman's eyes.

"He went for a business meeting yesterday, and someone poisoned his coffee! He was Mafia, and he made a mistake... but... the boss said that it was you, that you are one of theirs. That you... killed him." Assunta shook her head, and backed up a few paces.

_How could that be? _

"I swear to you, I-"

"No! Never speak to me again! You killed my Papa! You are a monster! He was right to tell you to stay away! I hate you!" She shouted and ran into the building. Assunta stood there, dumbstruck. At least, no one had heard her, or it could have been a horrible situation. ...Not that it wasn't already.

Assunta hated Dante, she always had. He allowed her comfort – a luxury apartment in the city, and anything she asked for including everything from designer clothing to priceless jewelry. But whenever she seemed to stray from his projected path – she was punished.

Horribly.

The man she killed probably hadn't betrayed their clan at all. No, Assunta knew Dante had made her kill him to drive a wedge between her and the only real friend she'd ever had. Filled with hatred, she turned around and had her limo driver take her to Dante's restaurant. She'd apply for a new school in the morning. She could never face Maria again.

"You! Why would you make me do this?" Assunta demanded as she threw open the oak doors leading into his office without even knocking. She balled her hands into fists as the bald-headed giant of a man glared daggers at her, and curled his lips that were full of a reeking cigar into a sneer. Assunta held her ground; she was not intimidated easily. Those days were gone. She could kill Dante fifty different ways with her little finger, if only she wouldn't be hunted for the rest of her life – and he knew it.

"Because you are forgetting who you are." He snapped. "You hunt alone. You kill alone. There can be no strings for others to pull to weaken you. You must detach yourself from them. You forgot this, and I reminded you."

"For seven years we have been like sisters, and now you do this?" Assunta spat.

"True, but it is not done. Tonight you will murder Maria Uglione." Dante said flatly. Assunta shook her head in horror. "If you refuse or fail to carry out this task, you will not only face execution yourself, but I will make both of you watch as my men kill her entire family. Then, you will watch as I strangle her to death with my bare hands before I deal with you."

"I understand." Assunta said miserably and left.

That night, she made short work of breaking into in the Uglione family's mansion. Assunta hesitated for only a second as she stood over the sleeping form of Maria.

"Goodbye, my friend. I would rather take one life than be responsible for many." She whispered and injected her with a poison. She would die painlessly, and to anyone else it would seem that she died peacefully in her sleep. When Assunta was back in her apartment, she cried. Cried for the first time since the night of her first murder and honestly contemplated taking her own life as penance for the horrors. Maria had done nothing – nothing but see Assunta as a person and not a monster. She didn't deserve that fate.

...Neither did her family.

When Assunta woke the following morning, there was a newspaper left on her kitchenette counter with a note from Dante.

"Never talk back to me again, Cari (dear)." It said. Assunta wanted to die when she saw the headline. The entire Uglione family (Maria's mother, two younger sisters and older brother) had been murdered in the night, and their art collection stolen. With tears in her eyes, Assunta balled up the paper and threw it out a window in rage.

It was then that Assunta decided that Dante had to die, by any means possible. The problem with it, was that he realized it too. She never saw him again, not in person. He only sent his men or used dead drops to give her jobs. He knew her methods well enough to hide from her, but keep her where he wanted her at the same time.

...For a while, anyway.

He would live to regret the day he turned an innocent child into a soulless killing machine. Assunta would make certain of that.


	10. Revelations

**Notes**: Apologies for the lack of updates. Real life is kicking me in the ass pretty hard lately. As such, future chapters won't be beta'd because I've got such spotty internet access right now. It's probably better to post them and be done with it. :c So, let me know if you see mistakes so I can fix them, please!

* * *

**Chapter 10: ** Revelations

* * *

Locating and intercepting the box truck carrying the suspicious cargo had been child's play for Natasha and Clint. It was an unmarked truck with a civilian registration. ...A registration that turned out to be fake upon closer inspection. Still, the Tea Party had been covering their tracks well. Natasha was willing to bet it would check out if they searched it on the database. The Mafia was backing the insurrection, after all, and they were nothing if not thorough. The two men in the truck had been carrying expertly crafted fake IDs as well. They'd left them alive. Hollie once said that the mafia didn't kill a target unless they _had_ to because dead men still talk. That was true. If the bodies were discovered, the terrorists would know they'd _finally _been compromised.

As of the moment, the two men were tied up and gagged in the back of the truck. ...And hidden behind the larger part of the cargo. The intelligence they'd previously gathered suggested that the supplies could be used to make cheap bombs, but what Natasha and Clint found had them worried. They were basically carting a dissembled nuke to a remote location in New Mexico, under the assumed identities of the men they had tied up in the back.

"I don't like this. It's too risky." Clint said, as he dug through the glove compartment from where he sat in the passenger seat. Natasha grunted noncommittally as she drove, glancing in the rear view mirror occasionally. She'd noticed the same black S-Class Mercedes with New York license plates behind them for some time. Occasionally the sleek luxury car switched lanes on the highway, but it seemed to be keeping up with them well.

"We're being followed." Natasha said flatly. "I think the risk would be greater if we strayed from the route we're taking. We can't afford for them to get suspicious."

"Damn it." Clint hissed, looking in the mirror at the Mercedes. "How long have they been tailing us?" He asked, as he took his Stark tablet out from under the seat and ran the car's plate numbers.

"I noticed when we left Tennessee. Could have been longer, though. I'm going to assume it's some kind of escort. If this bomb is what Stark thinks it is from the pictures you took, they're not going to take any chances." Natasha replied.

"True. Anyway, the car belongs to a guy named Lucio DePaola. But, it could be a fake identity and registration, too." Clint explained, scrolling through the department of motor vehicles database.

"Who is he?" Natasha asked while Clint was obviously running a background check.

"Just a normal, tax-paying, law-abiding US citizen who moved here from Sicily two years ago. He owns a contractor's business and recently got his master plumber certification." The archer replied, rolling his eyes.

"Mafia." Natasha commented.

"Obviously." Clint replied and stowed the tablet back under the seat. "The question is whether they're an escort, or waiting for us to stop so they can snuff us."

"We're just going to assume the worst and keep going. No stops, unless we're switching drivers. That was the orders these goons had, anyway. Did you forward the location of the destination to Stark?" Natasha said, glancing back at the car that was now riding in a blind-spot. She could still see a bit of it's front quarter panel in the mirror.

"Yeah. He's working on getting some intel on the area now for us."

* * *

Slowly, and _very_ carefully, Hollie took a few steps in the direction of her bedroom's door. Worst case scenario, she'd fall and have to crawl into the penthouse lounge. Either way, she was bored out of her mind and sick and tired of watching CSI reruns.

"I can do this. I _have _to do this." She said to herself as shuffled forward slowly. It was easy for her to walk now if she had someone to hang onto, but by herself she was having a very difficult time balancing. If only she had a cane or something to lean on... Her toes snagged on the plush carpeting and she fell with a thud.

"Figlio di puttana. (Son of a bitch.)" Hollie muttered, her cheek pressed against the carpet. In annoyance, she shoved herself into a sitting position. "five feet to the door. About twelve feet to the elevator. Sixteen stairs down to Stark's workshop. I can do this." It took a few tries, but she managed to raise herself back onto her feet. The thought of the stairs intimidated Hollie a bit, but she was pretty sure she'd be fine as long as she held onto the railing.

"_Miss Steele, I might advise you to return your bed, or seek assistance. You are likely to injure yourself if you continue this course of action._" Jarvis quipped. Hollie scowled and took another shaky step forward. She completely ignored Jarvis and leaned on the door frame panting from the effort it took her to walk a six measly feet. She took a deep breath and stared at the elevator doors in determination. She knew better than anyone that some obstacles had to be traversed – they wouldn't just go away if she was patient enough. This was one of them. She wasn't going to learn to walk again by laying in bed watching TV. What was it that Stark said? Sometime you have to run before you can walk? He was right about that much.

"Open the elevator, Jarvis." Hollie snapped, and started making her way forward. It was easier to walk on the tile floor, as her slippers didn't catch on it as easily. A few times, she nearly fell but managed to regain her balance. With each step, it became a little easier. After what seemed like an age, Hollie made it to the elevator. Deciding to rest for a moment, she laid her hand near the control panel – and jerked it back with a squeak when a sharp electrical shock tore through her.

That had been happening a lot if she touched anything electronic. Her clothes and hair had also been a mess of static charge lately. She and Bruce both assumed it had to with the the fact that there was basically a live electrical current running through her body at all times. Absently, she shook the numbness out of her hand and shuffled into the elevator.

"Take me to Stark's workshop." She told Jarvis.

"_You are not authorized to access that area._" Jarvis informed her. Hollie rolled her eyes.

"Access code 71193. Password: Pepper Potts. Take me to the Workshop." She snapped.

"_Right away, Ma'am._" Jarvis retorted and she held on tightly to the railing in the side of the elevator carriage. A few seconds later, the bell rang and the doors opened at the top of the staircase leading down in the underground workshop. Cautiously, she grabbed the rail and looked down the semi-dark staircase. _Maybe this wasn't the best idea..._ Hesitantly, she lowered her left foot onto the first step. With some effort, the right foot followed.

"One step at a time. Devo fare questo. (I have to do this.)" She muttered as she sluggishly descended the stairs. At the last step, she lost her footing and fell hard against the thick glass wall at the bottom. She righted herself and looked into the shop. It was in a state of chaos by the look of it, and at the center was Stark seated in a leather chair near a massive computer set-up that was probably Jarvis' control center. He was leaned over the desk with his head in hands and an open bottle of vodka next to him. Hollie rolled her eyes.

She made her way to the keypad by the door and punched in the same numeric code she'd given Jarvis. It opened effortlessly, and muted Tony's obnoxious music at the same time. Blearily he looked up, obviously expecting Pepper as it was her pass code that Hollie had used. His face fell when he saw her and he laid his head on the desk.

"Shecurity breash." He slurred to Jarvis. Jarvis ignored him. "Not shuposed to be in hur." Hollie ignored him, and grabbed a nearby piece of copper pipe to use a cane to lean on. She hobbled over to Tony and looked up at the screen in front of him. An undercover bomb shipment, and co-ordinates to remote location in the middle of the desert in Nevada were displayed.

"Is this about the Tea Party?" She asked. Tony didn't reply. Hollie sighed and grabbed his phone that was showing a new text from Clint.

_Do you have anything for us yet? _Was what it said. Hollie dialed the number and pressed it to her ear, despite Tony's incomprehensible drunken protests.

"What the hell is taking so long? Did you find anything out?" Clint blurted, the second he picked up the phone.

"Mind filling me in, Agent Barton? Stark has been drinking like a fish and I doubt he remembers his own name at the moment." Hollie replied tartly. Clint swore animatedly for a good two minutes straight before giving Hollie all the details. She spent a few moments looking up Lucio DePaola first, considering him to the most immediate threat. When she brought up an exploded view of his driver's license, she dropped the phone as her hands had suddenly started shaking.

"Dante. That is Dante Carnivale." She managed to choke into the receiver when she picked the phone back up. "Well, it is him in the license photo at least. As for the location... The satellite images show an old warehouse. It it likely heavily guarded. Perhaps it leads into an underground compound? They would need expansive facilities to develop and house a nuclear weapon of this scale."

"That was what we were thinking. Well, we're going to try and pull off an infiltration. There's nothing else we can do now, really. We're sort of trapped." Clint told her, sounding uncharacteristically nervous.

"If you get the chance to kill Dante, do not hesitate. I'd rather do it myself, but as long as he dies, I won't be too picky. Prestare attenzione. (Be careful.) It may not be him driving the car." Hollie told them and hung up. She glanced down at Stark who seemed to have finally just passed out. "I suppose I can't just leave you here like this..."


	11. Penny for Your Thoughts

**Notes: **So. Finally getting somewhere. Please review,guys. ;_; I need inspiration and your comments really help.**  
**

* * *

**Chapter 10:** Penny for Your Thoughts?

* * *

Tony's first thought when he woke up draped over his desk with Hollie standing over him was that he _must _be hallucinating. How was she standing by herself? How the hell did she get into his workshop? Did Clint and Nat manage to intercept the - _Fuck._

"Oh fuck, Natasha..." He mumbled, fighting a massive migraine and unceremoniously shoving Hollie aside.

"I took care of it. They're going undercover. You've been unconscious for about four hours." Hollie said, watching him like a hawk. "Pepper was by earlier. Seeing you like that nearly gave the poor woman an ulcer." Tony flopped back down in his chair and looked up at Hollie blearily. She was leaning on a copper pipe for support, but still, the speed with which she was recovering was remarkable. If she kept going at this rate, she might even be able to go back into covert ops eventually.

"What did she want?" Tony groaned, holding his head in his hands. "Actually, sorry. Could you be a doll and get me the Advil from that cabinet there, sweetie pie?" Tony added, pointing at a cabinet above the sink in the corner. He knew it was kind of a dick move to ask her, but he was kind of curious how well she was able to walk by now. Hollie glowered at him, but did as she was told. Tony watched her hobble over there in amazement. She'd really come a long way since taking her first steps a week ago. He was secretly proud of the huge strides she was making in her recovery. ...Even if it had all been Bruce's idea.

"Miss Potts found something she shouldn't have in the company logs. There's a group of engineers in the research and development department that's been selling weapons parts under the table to a private partner. She was able to track the shipments to areas close to the Macy's bombing and the one in Queens. But she thinks they're working on full-scale nuclear weapons in secret, too." Hollie explained, while the color drained from Tony's face. "...Which makes sense, with the cargo that Clint and Natasha stumbled on."

"Damn it." Tony swore and got to his feet. "I have to do something about this!"

"Like what, exactly? Right now we haven't gotten caught snooping. If you start blowing shit up, we _will_." Hollie snapped. Tony flinched, but looked at her with a suitably cowed expression. She was right, he knew that, but it didn't make it any easier to accept. Wryly, he glanced at her and the copper pipe in her hand. Bruce had told him about conductive objects becoming charged if Hollie touched them. If he could apply that to...

"Hey, can I see something for a second?" Tony asked as he got to his feet, and met her halfway across the room on her way back to him. Hollie raised her eyebrows and tossed the bottle of Advil to him, which he caught deftly. Curiously, he wrapped his hand around the copper pipe just below hers.

"Shit!" He said, letting go almost immediately and rubbing his hand that went numb from a nasty shock that he felt all the way up his arm. "That's... So fucking cool."

"What...?"

"Come over here, I want to show you something I've been working on in my downtime." Tony said and swallowed a couple of the pills, all traces of his previous shitty mood gone. Uncertainly, Hollie followed Tony to other side of the shop where he kept the suits he was working on. The table there was covered with blueprints for the Mark 43. _43? He's made _that_ many?_

"When I started designing this, we weren't sure if you'd ever be able to walk again. Honestly, the others would probably kill me for doing it – but I kind of feel like what happened to you is my fault. So, this was sort of a way to give you some mobility if Bruce's theory didn't work out." Hollie shook her head, she was pretty sure where this was going, and wasn't all that crazy about it.

"Anyway, it's not done yet... Which works out fine because I just got the _awesomest_ idea to make it pretty much the most badass thing ever." Tony rambled, and flipped a switch open a set of metal doors to reveal a half-built suit that was definitely Hollie's height, and female in shape. It was bare metal and not yet painted like the others. She had to admit, it was pretty cool and a much sleeker, and more aesthetically pleasing design than the monstrosities Stark liked to fly around in. Still, Hollie wasn't all that thrilled by the idea. The helicarrier and quinjets were bad enough. Flying wasn't her thing, and heights were her one true fear.

"Why do you blame yourself for what happened to me?" Of all things she could have asked, Hollie wasn't entirely sure why that was the first question to come out of her mouth. Tony regarded her in silence for a moment before he answered.

"It was my tech. Maybe I don't make weapons anymore, but I still see it as my personal responsibility to stop shit like that from happening. Fury told me the Macy's bomb was originally looted from a SHIELD warehouse. That wouldn't have happened if he'd just handed everything over like I asked. I even offered to _pay _him for it. The Tea Party probably wouldn't have the foothold they do if Fury had just co-operated with me. He did the same thing with the Tesseract. They just don't learn. No offense to you personally, but _most_ of the people I know that work for SHIELD have their heads so far up their own asses that can't tell right from left." Tony explained disgustedly.

"It isn't Fury as much as the security council. Fury _has _to answer to them, and if he doesn't, they have other ways to get their orders carried out - with or without his approval." Hollie told him flatly. "Though, he _is_ an arrogant self-righteous dick."

"So am I. The difference is I willing admit it. No wonder it always ends in disaster when we're in a room together. Anyway, I'll have this puppy done by the end of the week. I'm going to try a few things, but I _think_ I can make your repulsors able to generate a sort of shield based on the way the metal in the suit will conduct energy from your body. Don't worry, the arc reactor can handle it. It's virtually indestructible." Tony chattered, looking like a kid with a new toy. "You know, I always wanted to make Pepper a suit, but she..." His voice trailed off and Hollie could easily sense to hurt in his expression.

"Obviously disapproved of your 'hobby'." Hollie drawled and leaned against the edge of the counter. She'd reached her physical limit about an hour ago, but didn't really want to show any more weakness than necessary.

"And then some. But I don't hold it against her... Do _you _disapprove of my 'hobby'?" Tony asked suddenly.

"Not particularly." Hollie said enigmatically. "I don't need something like this, but I suppose it might be... fun." Tony smiled like an idiot, even he knew she said it entirely for his benefit. Something told him Hollie didn't even know the meaning of the word 'fun', but by the time he was done with her... Well. Tony was pretty sure things were going to interesting.

"Let's get you back upstairs. I think you've probably overdone it there, Sherlock." Tony said and held out his hand. "Here, you can lean on me. I'm not sure I trust you not to short-circuit the elevator with your lightening rod, there."

"You're up to something." Hollie muttered and tossed the pipe aside. It sparked as it hit the floor. She took a hold of Tony's arm and allowed him to lead her into the elevator.

"I have honestly no idea what you're talking about." Tony babbled, and pressed the button for the penthouse. "Because – Damn it. That's _annoying_." He swore, shaking his hand that got shocked when he touched the button due to being in physical contact with Hollie.

"It is, isn't it?" Hollie muttered. Tony just looked down at her with a frown. She was a good foot shorter than he was, and he wasn't exactly tall. So that made her... like four and a half feet tall at the most? The mafia's most lethal killer was almost legally a dwarf? He hadn't noticed how small she was before, even building the suit. But he knew better than to see that at as a weakness – especially for an assassin. Her small and compact build must have made breaking and entering disgustingly easy.

"I never noticed how short you are." Tony said with a chuckle as the elevator stopped on the penthouse floor. She looked up at him, and for a second, he saw a flash of pure hatred in her grey eyes.

"This was not my first spinal injury, Mr. Stark." Hollie said icily. But Tony could tell the venom wasn't meant for him. He knew next to nothing about her, yet it was obvious that she'd been abused and hurt in more ways than he could imagine. She would had to have been, there was just_ no way_ she could be the way she was otherwise.

What really surprised Tony was the sudden, raging desire to find whoever did this to her and introduce them to his fists. Since when was he even capable of feeling like an angry, overprotective mother bear? And why now? Why did he want so badly just to see Hollie be happy? Maybe it was just his way of always trying to achieve the impossible. Making Hollie smile had to be about as hard as beating Obadiah at a chess game. He hadn't managed it yet, after all. ...Not a_ real_ smile, anyway.

"So, what's your story, anyway? It's starting to seem like your biography might give The Godfather a run for it's money." Tony quipped as they stepped out of the elevator. Hollie frowned and stared at the carpet. She hated the way she was clinging to Stark for balance, yet at the same time, she didn't want to let go. He annoyed the living shit out of her on a good day, but something about him felt safe in a way she couldn't remember since being a child. He would protect her if anyone meant her harm; Hollie knew that and it terrified her. Stark was as good as dead already. Just like her mother. Just like poor Maria and her family. It never failed.

"It's pretty simple, really." She said quietly, eyes still downcast. "Everything I love dies. The end."

"That's a bit melodramatic." Tony replied, steering Hollie not to her room, but to the large sofa in the lounge.

"Yes, but true." She said, barely above a whisper. Tony just let it drop; he might not always be the most observant person in the world, but there was no missing the pain in her voice.

"Well, then forget about it. It's done and over with anyway. Shit happens, life sucks and God's an asshole – if he's even real, and not a space viking with a penchant for world domination. Deal with it and move on. We all make enemies. The difference is whether or not you kick their asses, or let them keep you down." Tony said sagely and patted her on the head like a puppy as he deposited her on the sofa. "I'm starving. Chinese or Pizza?"

"...Chinese." Hollie mumbled, lost in thought.

Had she been letting her past imprison her all these years? She hated to think about it that way, but maybe she had been. Maybe it was all in her head, but she wondered if she _could _escape it all once Dante was killed. None of the other mafiosi knew her face because of her role as an assassin. They only knew the scar, which was easy enough to hide with make-up. She'd been doing that since she was six years old because she couldn't stand to look at it. Hell, she could probably even pester Doctor Strange into surgically removing it if he thought it was for a good cause.

But what would she even_ do_ with a new life free of her chains to SHIELD or the Mafia? She was almost thirty years old, and didn't want the responsibility (or liability) of a family to look after. She doubted she'd ever be completely free of the mafia, anyway. Just when she finally thought they were gone for good, would be when it all went to pot. They'd wait for her to let her guard down, and destroy everything she'd fought for just as they always had.

...Never mind that Hollie didn't even really know _how _to live in any other way.

"Penny for your thoughts?" Hollie blinked and looked up at Tony.

"My thoughts are worth more than a _penny_, Mr. Stark. I doubt you could afford them." She snapped.

"I can afford to buy Kim Kardashian custom tailored lingerie. I think we're good here." Tony said with a wink. "So, what'll we call you? I was thinking Iron Maiden, but even though they're an awesome band, it sounds kind of cheesy for a super hero name." Hollie didn't comment, and pointedly stared out the window at the setting sun. For a moment, she desperately wished she could stay with the Avengers when all was said and done.


	12. What You Can't Have

** Chapter 12:** What You can't have...

* * *

It took Clint and Natasha four and half days of driving non-stop to get to their destination. After almost a week of sitting in the dirty old box truck, the two of them were almost _glad _to be in the middle of an enemy terrorist compound as long as it meant getting some fresh air.

"Well, this is it." Natasha said, hitting the brakes and letting the truck come to a halt where a man dressed in a Kevlar body suit, carrying an M16 motioned for them to park it. "That's SHIELD gear..." She whispered to Clint and they shared an anxious glance. If the insurgent was from SHIELD, what little cover they had might be blown already.

"Step out of the vehicle while we inspect the cargo." He said, waving the machine gun around like a toy. Nonchalantly, Clint and Natasha did as they were told. They'd killed and dumped the tied up men out of the truck on the highway the day before when the Mercedes pulled off at a rest stop. ...Loose ends all that. Wordlessly, Clint opened the doors to the back of the truck, while Natasha stood out of the way, making as many observations as she could of the exterior of the compound.

It wasn't much to look at, just an old warehouse in the middle of the desert. It had aluminum siding in desperate need of repair, and seemed to be surrounded by several large shipping crates. It was unlikely to be discovered by any aircraft as it was in a no-fly zone because of military maneuvers being practiced nearby. ...But not close enough to be noticed. It also had the advantage of being well hidden by the landscape. There were several checkpoints leading into the compound, with ten armed guards each. At least forty men, as far Natasha could see, guarded the warehouse proper. All of them were strategically placed and wore excellent camouflage gear. In other words, anything short of a major air strike would be suicide for a small group – possibly even the Avengers when taking into account their weapons capability that was still an unknown variable in the equation.

"Identification?" The man demanded. Clint handed him the Tea Party ID he'd taken from one of the truck drivers. Natasha forked over an excellent forgery she had made of one they'd found one of the insurgents Hollie shot at the Macy's bombing. The guard nodded gruffly and gave the IDs back to them.

"Everything's in order, boss." He said into an old walkie talkie. As soon as he said it, a woman in a sleek navy business suit hopped out of the driver's side of the Mercedes, and ran around to open the back door. A beast of man got out. He was nearly seven feet tall, bald aside from a neatly trimmed grey beard, and had an expensive cigar clenched between his yellowing teeth.

Dante Carnivale – the head honcho of a very powerful branch of the Sicilian Mafia, a man known for his cruelty, utter lack of morals and a temper to rival the Hulk's.

"You've done well." He said, approaching Clint and Natasha. "You took an enormous risk getting this here, and rest assured that such actions of benefit to our organization do not go unrewarded. However, traitors and spies don't go _unpunished_. You really should have covered your tracks a bit better, Natasha Romanov and Clint Barton of SHIELD."

"Shit." Natasha muttered and glanced at Clint. Both of them reached for their weapons, but there were a good thirty machine guns aimed at them before they had the chance to draw.

"We'll go quietly." Clint said, raising his hands above his head in the universal sign of surrender and submission. Natasha gritted her teeth and barely managed to restrain herself from shooting from Dante in the face as she followed suit.

"Sir, we received a message from our operative working in SHIELD!" Another insurgent said, as he came running from the warehouse. "We have discovered the alias of La Volpe (The Fox). She is deceased according to SHIELD records, but recent intelligence suggests otherwise." Dante screwed his face up into a scowl and bit down hard on his noxious cigar. Natasha and Clint watched him with wide eyes. There was only one person they could be talking about.

"Where?"

"Ah, we do not know her current location." The man explained. "Apparently she survived the Macy's bomb, though she has not been seen since."

"Find her and kill her. That is, _again,_ our number one priority. Rip that bitch's heart out and bring it back to me in a jar. I am not being dramatic. Bring me _her heart_." Dante hissed. Clint looked like he swallowed a bug. Natasha elbowed him in the ribs and he quickly regained his composure, but it wasn't fast enough – Dante had seen Clint's reaction.

"...And throw these two in the pit. Tell Frank to have fun with them, and break _anything_ he likes so long as they can still tell me where to find that cunt."

* * *

Now that he knew she could walk, Hollie had a hard time evading Tony. Oddly enough, she didn't mind. Her knowledge of computers came in handy, and he put her to work building the circuitry for the the Mark 43. Hollie didn't know it, but she was officially the only person other than Bruce that was not only allowed in the workshop, but allowed to touch Tony's tools. It was frustrating as hell, though. She lacked the refined motor skills to do it properly, and her soldering was a mess. After what had to be the fiftieth failed attempt at building a motherboard for the repulsor system, she finally lost it and threw the badly soldered mess of wires against the wall with an unintelligible yell of anger. Tony looked up at her, obviously on the verge of tears, and turned off the welding the torch in his hand.

"That's not how you do it, hun. It's more like this." He said, picked up the half-built repulsor for the left hand of her suit and blew the broken circuitry to shit. It lay in a smoldering heap against the concrete wall that sported a new burn hole. Hollie laughed, but it was hollow and she dissolved into tears almost instantly. Tony honestly wasn't sure what the hell to do with her. Seeing someone like Hollie break down and cry was almost physically painful. Honestly, he would have bet money on Steve screaming racist slurs at an old lady before Hollie sat in his workshop and cried like a little girl.

But, he _knew_ it was coming. Hollie was human after all, there was only so much she could take and Tony cold tell she was getting more and more frustrated by her physical limitations with each passing day. Sure, she put on a brave face and made a monumental effort to pick up the pieces, but it wasn't that easy - not with living in constant fear of being murdered by the mafia, or god only knows what else.

"Okay, so you can't solder a circuit board. Not the end of the world. Let's start with what you _can _do." Tony said and handed her a clean rag to wipe her face on. "I'm thinking we can have you work on coding the OS. How's that sound? Right up your alley, yeah?"

Hollie just choked on a sob and shook her head.

"Okay. No. That's fine. We could always just say fuck it, get shitfaced and go to town on each other. I'm down for that anytime." Tony suggested with a shrug. Hollie just ignored him, pulled her knees to her chest and wrapped her arms around them as she cried.

"Come on Moaning Myrtle, throw me a bone here. I'm trying to make it all better. Sympathy isn't my thing, but I feel kind of bad so... Jesus Christ! I'm going to find this Dante douche and fire a repulsor beam right up his ass. It'll be like a pig roast. He kind of looks like a pig, right? That driver's license photo sure did. His new nickname is porky, how about it?" Tony chattered, pulling up a chair next to Hollie. She just continued ignoring him. Tony fell silent and sighed. He was just about to go grab her a bottle of vodka from the mini-fridge as a last resort, when she finally spoke.

"I just want..." She shook her head."Nothing, it's nothing."

"Well, in my experience, _nothing _is usually a whole lot of something that I really need to talk about but, run away from like the giant pussy I am when it comes to emotional bullshit." Tony replied, putting a hand on her shoulder. ...Which he immediately regretted as it got grease all over her shirt sleeve.

"I have a habit of wanting things I can't have." Hollie said somewhat more coherently.

"Like what?" Tony pried. Hollie just shook her head. "What can't you have? A mansion in Newport? Brad Pitt's autographed dirty underwear? ...I think I could get you both of those, actually."

"You already know what it is, Stark. All the money in the world wouldn't help me." Hollie said, and shakily made her way out of the workshop. Tony knew better than to stop her, but he didn't have a clue what she was talking about, either. Yet, he had the nastiest feeling it was one of those things he _should _know that was going to wind up biting him in the ass later. ...Like that time he left Pepper on the balcony at that stupid charity event.

_Pepper._

He really needed to stop thinking about her. It wasn't going to change a damn thing, and just made him want to crawl in his bed with enough alcohol to drink himself to death with. Pepper was everything. _Still_ was everything. She was the one thing he knew he couldn't live without, even if she still wasn't really speaking to him outside of business. Even if they were destined to fall apart eventually, Tony still would give up everything if meant that she'd be happy.


End file.
